


Exit Stage Left

by adiosnonino (chanporado)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Pyeongchang Olympics, author wants her sleep back, probably 5 stages of grief-ish, so much bitter feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 22:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13774308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanporado/pseuds/adiosnonino
Summary: Defeat. That wasn’t in his dictionary before. Everyday he learns something. The chase ended here.





	Exit Stage Left

**Author's Note:**

> note to self: never watch his K&C reaction ever again
> 
> unbeta-ed as usual

Skaters are actors. It’s a part of their job to get into their role and sell it to the judges and audience. The better you are, the more believable your story would be.

 

Sometimes it goes beyond the ice. Sometime after a rather intense performance, the switch is turned off to allow you to be a little more like yourself. A little more room to breath. So many characters to play as. It's a wonder that none of them have lost their minds yet.

 

And he finds it incredibly stupid sometimes.

 

It’s his goal to try to interpret the story and make it his own. It’s more natural for him to try to provide his own interpretation and insight than to force himself. Let his skating do the talking and the audience the thinking. No words. Just them and the beauty of body language. 

 

A song can just be a song. But not for them. It’s a whole new world they can bring someone into. A new place with new people living within the imaginary sphere for a span of few minutes. But not everyone manages to enter it. Only those who truly see it for what it’s worth. If their jump is to just go through the motions, then what is the best he could offer? Impressive tricks to stay afloat? Then he’s rather quit before he loses the feeling of flying.

  
  


Not all competitions are the same. Some are of great importance where he would feel the need to defend his country’s honor. Some are just simple competitions to keep his senses sharp and his mind clear. Some are merely a chance to showcase what he has to offer.

 

But there is only one where everything mattered. Where every single mistake you make will be seen by the whole world. Where you have to put on a mask whether you are on ice or just milling around. Stay focused. Stay blank. Keep your eyes on the goal.

 

And the games begin.

* * *

 

After performances, he often locked any of his remaining emotions that threatened to come out. All eyes are on him as he made his way to the kiss and cry. This one felt different.

 

It was more draining, more emotionally taxing. It took all his strength not to burst out crying. That would be very embarrassing. It’s not like he’s known for getting emotional at his scores. Maybe with a little bit of faking, he’ll be alright.

 

Maybe if he tried his hardest to smile, even if it’s just a small one, people would be reassured that he is just exhausted. The tension begins to grow thicker per second as the commentators went through with their analysis, nitpicking every single element. He tries to keep a calm exterior, forcing himself to smile and bow when the camera was pointed at him and Frank. He knew that there would be more than harsh words later. Hopefully if he encounters Nikolai, the Russian man might be kinder to him.

 

But he’s used to it. He’s used to being yelled at by different people. He’s used to them brutally tearing him apart and leaving him to fix himself.

 

It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

 

His eyes begin to dart around, trying to look for something. Was he always like this ever since the injury happened? Always searching for something? Or maybe it was the weight he carried. He didn’t knew that a single bronze medal would weight so much. What would his whole country think? What would his friends back home would think? What would his entire family, his grandmother especially, would think of him?

 

Did it matter?

 

The score is announced. He is too afraid to look at it. He is sure he wouldn’t make the cut. Maybe if he took a little peek at it, it might be higher than he expected.

 

He peeks. He wished he didn’t.

 

The entire place is suddenly closing in on him. He can’t breath. He needed space. Tears are threatening to fall from his eyes. Miraculously, Frank lets him go. He dodges the media so they won’t see how shameful he looked. He is an Olympian, and a man for goodness sake! A descendant of a fierce general breaking down over scores? Laughable. 

 

There is no time to look back to mistakes. For all he cared for, it was the damn salchow that kept him from going to free. It would have been much better if he had his 15 year old self’s mindset. Nevermind the podium, he made it to the Olympics and he’s sure that his Fatherland would be proud.Luck

 

He hopped on an empty bus, not caring if it would take him to where he is staying. Luckily the bus is empty and he finally let them fall down freely.

 

Is this the feeling where you let everyone down? He knows he had a bad season but never knew that it was this bad. Even worse, he made fool of himself in where it mattered the most. This isn’t Sochi where he had to skate lights out to win. He had one job and he completely failed it. What a great job of representing Kazakhstan.

 

Now when he goes home, he’s sure that everyone is going to forget about him. Some would be sympathetic but eventually, it will pass. Life will go on. There would be a new star they can fixate on while his light slowly dies out. He’ll go back to where he came from: a nobody from Almaty that had to be stopped.

 

The window reflected on what a mess he was. Red eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and even worse hair. His face looked older, more weary from bearing all the weight. Never in his life he felt this defeated.

 

Defeat. That wasn’t in his dictionary before. Everyday he learns something. The chase ended here.

 

It feels so awful. How did these people who often never made it to the free feel? Did Martinez feel the same way after Nebelhorn? From what he heard, the young man hung up his skates after and as soon as he got the berth, he threw himself immediately into training and only started jumping two weeks before which is a miracle itself.

 

Well damn. He must be being overdramatic then. Just as he thought of it, his ankle throbbed a little and he glares at it. Stupid injury holding him back. Stupid body not letting him do his best.

 

This is stupid. Everything is stupid. He gave too much just to be able to skate in Pyeongchang. All these trainings, the amount of pain he had to endure, the harsh words he often got from everyone and their mothers, his coaches’ lost look.

 

Damnit he should try being an actor instead. 


End file.
